In Need Of A Friend
by Starshocked
Summary: House. Cameron. And Wilson. Smut, drama, fluff. CHAPTER 15 is up and a storm is gathering. Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be this hard. Oh, take me back to the start.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All characters herein remain the property of Fox. And are not mine.

**In Need of A Friend**

Cameron, Foreman and Chase sit in the cafeteria, pushing yesterday's Macaroni around their plates and waiting for that elusive "beep" that will get them all moving again.

Time drags on.

"I hate this." Cameron sighs, not sure if she's referring to the lunch special or the lack of patients.

"It's the middle of summer," Foreman reasons and then as if to illustrate the point, he takes off his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt. "I guess Doctor Death has taken a holiday."

"You know what's happened." Chase says mysteriously and then leans in to the middle of the table and lowers his voice. "House did something major this time and so Cuddy's not letting him have any patients."

"Yeah, because she's that petty," Cameron rolls her eyes and takes a mouthful of food. She tries to eat without gagging. Tries to cover her tracks. Hopes she's not giving away any tell tale signs that she knows what's really going on.

"What would drive House more crazy than having no patients?" Chase reasons.

Foreman raises his eyebrow. "You could be right. Maybe I'll phone the diagnostics at Jefferson this afternoon and see if they've had a sudden influx of patients."

Cameron drops her fork and slides off her chair.

"Where are you going?" Chase says.

"Get some air."

She leaves them both and heads out into the cooler corridor.

She's never been comfortable with the heat. Always preferred winter or autumn.

Maybe it's because the job is so intense anyway. There's no room for the slugishness that summer brings. Or maybe it's because of _him_. He can raise her temperature with just a look and when it's already veering towards the nineties, this makes working around him very uncomfortable indeed.

She heads to the shower room and opens her locker searching for something cooler to change into.

House enters the room and removes his shirt revealing a faded grey t-shirt beneath.

She peeps from behind her locker door. This is something she's had to deal with before. She's even showered in the next cubicle to him and managed to control her deepest darkest urges. But now her fingers leave marks on the metal of the locker and her palms are clammy.

"We have a patient?" She asks. Her legs trembling. Not daring to make eye contact with him.

"Yes. Didn't you get the magical silent page?" He snaps.

She retrieves a white towel and slams her locker shut.

Now she's not sure what to do.

If she makes for the shower and he does at the same time, what then? If she hangs back and waits it might look like she's ogling his body. Which she is definitely not.

"Do you have a spare towel?" He asks as he pulls off his t-shirt to reveal a smooth lightly tanned torso.

"I-" She begins but then discovers that she's now incapable of stringing a sentence together.

He smoothes his hair down.

"_You missed a bit." _She wants to say to him and confidently step into the space between them to touch the top of his head.

He notices her glazed expression. "I only want a towel, not one of your kidneys."

She tries to move her foot. To close the space. It doesn't work. It won't happen.

"I don't know," she tries to regain some power. "Will I get it back?"

"Yes. Wet with the glistening sweat of my body."

She sees an amused flicker in his eyes.

"I meant freshly laundered and smelling of wild flowers."

He raises his eyebrows: "Come on. It's a towel. I thought you were the sharing caring kind."

"I am." She says, adding under her breath. "To my friends."

"Aren't we friends?" He asks her mockingly reaching out for her locker door.

She reaches out and catches his wrist. She can't believe she's done it. But now her grip is hard on his skin and she knows that he feels something.

"I don't know." She breaths unevenly, "Are we?"

He moves his arm away from her grip slowly and carefully and looks at her neck.

"No. Never."

She turns away and opens her locker searching for another towel.

"So, is it true?"

"Is what true?" He sits down, shirtless, on the bench and kicks off his sneakers.

"You're in trouble with Cuddy so we don't get a patient?"

"Right." He says. "Cos that would explain everything so easily."

She finds the towel and is about to hand it to him but she holds back. "Tell me."

"Fine." He says looking up at her and rubbing a bead of sweat from his top lip. "We had a patient. A kid with an aneurysm and unusual blood clotting. But my reputation goes before me and his parents decided to check out before he checked out, so to speak."

Cameron raises her eyebrows. "Then maybe you should be worried."

"Maybe _we _should be worried," he corrects her. "My reputation is your reputation while you're on my team."

She bites her lip as a bead of sweat trickles down the indent of his chest.

_Get a grip Allison, concentrate. _

She's not sure if she thought it or he actually said it but she hands him the towel and he stands.

"I know." She says quietly. "I spoke to the father."

"Great." House says, turning and closing his own locker. "So you warned him away? Which example did you give, Cameron? The one where I saved that kid from death or…gee…I don't know, the one where I saved those two kids from death?"

"It wasn't like that." She tries to sound sincere as she talks to the light freckles on his back. She traces the muscles in his shoulders with her eyes. He's so tense. There's so much going on inside him.

"What was it like then?" He says. Turning suddenly his chest lightly pressed against her lap coat.

She knows he does this on purpose. He must know.

She tries to take a step back but bumps her legs on the bench.

Regaining her composure she focuses on the tiled ceiling: "I actually tried to persuade him to stay. I told him how brilliant you are. I don't know why I did, but I did."

House's face softens a little and he eyes her cautiously. "We both know why you did. But you didn't need to. We're not friends. Remember."

He leans forward and moves a sticky strand of her hair from her ear. He whispers into the skin beneath it. "I do not have friendly feelings for you."

She immediately pulls away. Shocked.

_Those eyes._ Her face flushes. Her shirt beneath her lap coat sticks to her back.

"I'm heading into the shower." He says turning and beginning to walk away. She watches his shoulders tense again. "You?"

"I –" she begins.

_Images: steam, skin, freckles, water coming down hard, bodies pressed up against the glass, palms grasping at hair, the warmth of his touch, the friction of his body covering her own, her nipples erect as his hot tongue lashes against them, gripping her ass, pounding into her, holding her to him, sweat and water mingling, feeling all his bumps and ridges deep inside her, gasping and clamouring to get further into him, and then the release. Something she can't even imagine with him._

"I-" She calls after him. _I want you to fuck me. Hard. In the steam and the water and the sweat. _"I'm just going to change."

Reluctantly, she opens her locker once again and strips down to her underwear. Her breasts, still swollen, brush against the metal and she lets them stay there for a second, the coldness felt through her bra making her want to touch herself but she resists for fear of him reappearing.

Instead she puts on her lap coat over just her bra and skirt and slams the locker. Hard.

"You still there?" House asks over the pounding water.

She wonders if his voice sounds strangely higher pitched. Slightly strangled. She wonders if he's running his fingers across his thighs or gripping his cock and thinking of her.

She wonders what he would do if she…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Fox. Not I.**

_Been persuaded to continue this. Thanks to all reviewers and readers so far._

II

"Are those guys…" Chase's floppy hair fell over his head as he nodded towards House's office.

The unfinished question hung in the stagnant heat as Foreman followed Chase's eye line and clocked the svelte silhouette of Cameron behind the glass.

Foreman watched as she walked over to where House sat watching General Hospital and then she moved behind the whiteboard and out of view.

He cringed and gathered his files together. "I certainly hope not. A hundred dollars says they're not."

Chase looked down and sulked. _Little boy lost. Little boy in a very bad mood: _"Not sure I want to take that bet."

"Come on man," Foreman reasoned, "You get a hundred dollars even if you don't get the girl."

"I don't want the girl!" Chase protested and then: "Fine!"

He opened his wallet to check its contents.

Cameron moved in front of the TV.

House sighed and moved his legs off the footstool, avoiding eye contact. "You want to sit?"

She didn't reply. Her eyes flashed over his body. His hunched shoulders. His lips caressing an ice cream cone. She was inches away from him but whole worlds of touch and taste.

"So," she mused, "tell me how good it was."

"What?" He paused, a dribble of ice cream falling onto his shirt. His low lidded eyes met hers.

"Last night."

"Yeah," He turned to his desk and disposed of the cone in a Kleenex as he continued to speak carefully, "It was hot. What do you think?"

He leant over her and threw the Kleenex in the trash.

The heat wasn't going to let up. It had made everyone lazy. She had started to wear less clothes. Replacing her lab coat (when she wasn't with a patient) with a small tank top and her bare arms got goose bumps whenever he spoke to her. This wasn't lost on him.

He moved to lean against his desk. Wondering about running his finger down her slender arm. Thinking about the effect it might have.

He saw everything in her eyes and it was immediately reflected back to her in his own gaze. Her naivety, her girlish hopes, her pretend confidence, the sad truth that she really was in love with him.

She suddenly lost her nerve. She couldn't cope with the details. Maybe she'd already gone too far.

"_Cameron," House stepped into the elevator that morning. "I had a dream about you last night."_

_She rolled her eyes and stared straight ahead as the doors closed._

_House looked her over. Pleased that she wasn't back in her sensible shirts. "You're supposed to say 'did you?' and then I say: 'No, you wouldn't let me.' You're no fun!"_

_The lift started to move and her stomach lurched as it always did so early in the morning._

_House shifted his cane against the movement and the back of his hand brushed against her own. _

_She looked at him suspiciously: "I wouldn't let you?"_

_He shook his head. "Even in my dreams you're the moral princess." _

_She snorted and he smirked slightly. _

_The elevator stopped and he stepped out first and then looked back at her:_

"_You wouldn't let me video you but you were so hot in the sack."_

_She stood. Embarrassed. Nurses crashing into each other behind her. Armfuls of paper floating to the floor. _

"So it was good. It. Me. Us." She was pushing him. She focused on the mess of his unopened post.

"Oh you were good." He was playing a game and now he wasn't even sure if the dream had been real or if it was just something he'd made up on the spot to make her chest rise and fall like that as she tried to catch her breath.

"You were wearing those little gym shorts and your hair was all…" He moved his hand to almost touch the loose curls around her shoulders but let his hand stay, lingering above the strap of her vest.

The cell phone on his desk suddenly rang and she jumped a little, bringing her hand to her chest to feel her racing heart.

He ignored the phone and finally let his hand brush her shoulder. Her knees almost buckled and she put her hand out onto his desk to support herself.

He raised his eyebrow: "Feeling a little hot, Doctor Cameron?"

Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to maintain some control. She slowly brought her eyes back to his. _The connection. The power. The throb. The need._

"That's what I said to you last night." He lazily ran his fingers down her arm and came to rest at her palm. He pulled her closer to him so that her forehead bumped his nose. He ran his index finger over her palm and she shivered.

"And then?" She whispered.

"And then –" he paused. His eyes darkening. "And then I went down on you."

"House!" She breathed. Trying to scold him but unable to get the words out.

She looked down at his finger rubbing her palm. He was just playing with her. Teasing her. Seeing how far he could push things. Neither of them could find a valid reason to break this contact.

"And then…" She instinctively drew even closer to him until his mouth came to rest in the dip of her neck. "Then you turned into Angelina Jolie."

He almost kissed her. The brush of his lips, the graze of his chin, on the skin of her neck. It was sweet and painful.

She pulled away quickly.

"Funny," she replied, removing herself from the situation, "You always turn into Brad Pitt."

"Hm," He said, regaining his composure quickly, like it had never happened. Like what had just occurred had been another dream:

"I'd have been more interested if I turned into Angelina Jolie."

"I bet you would." She managed to smile although her lips quivered like she'd been sucking on ice.

She headed back into the safety of the other room where Chase eyed her suspiciously as she asked him if he'd like a coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. They own me.**

III

House surveyed her from a safe distance tucked behind the large pot plants in the clinic reception.

She was taking a patient history. Sat sandwiched between a fat guy and his wife as she lent forward and concentrated on writing into her file, raising her eyebrows occasionally as the guy spoke loudly and clutched his chest.

The wife was red faced and panicking. Occasionally, Cameron would reach out and gently touch her arm. _Don't worry. Everything will be ok._

Nurse Brenda passed him and paused, raising her eyebrows.

"So?" House snapped, turning back to the plant, "I'm a keen gardener."

He picked a leaf and examined it intently.

"Right," She replied. "But why are you perving on Doctor Cameron?"

House widened his eyes in surprise. No comeback ready.

Suddenly, Cameron stood up and advanced towards them. He ducked behind the Yucca until she was safely down the corridor.

Nurse Brenda regarded him coldly: "And another thing – Get Smart called and they want their disguise back."

"Wow, that was funny." he grimaced. "In the 1970s."

He had to hand it to the woman. She definitely took his mind off Cameron's pert and peachy ass as it headed to the elevator.

By the time he had made it back to his office _she_ was sitting at his desk tentatively examining his Ipod.

"Don't touch it," he said, flying through the door and swiping it out of her hand. "It explodes if someone who doesn't know the difference between a chorus peddle and a Wah Wah peddle even looks at it."

Reference lost on her she handed him a file. "I think I got us a case."

"No you didn't!" He exclaimed, mock delight and then circled her back to place his Ipod in its dock and switch it on.

"55 year old man, three heart attack history starts having unexplainable seizures and…"

"Sssh!" he raised his finger to his lips and Cameron halted mid sentence.

She rolled her eyes and pushed the chair back. "I don't need to listen to this."

"Oh you so do." He muttered. "I've never seen anyone that's more in need of…"

A booming baseline filled the room and the lyrics of Cream's Badge began to vibrate against the windows. It was loud.

It was too loud. Cameron stood up, watched House as he mouthed the lyrics, there was something mesmerising about him when he was listening to music. Like he got so caught up in the moment.

He took his seat back and drummed his fingers on the desk: _"Talkin' bout a girl that looks quite like you."_

He met her gaze and for a moment she allowed herself to get caught up in the moment too. Maybe House should have been in a rock band. Maybe if he had been they'd be fucking by now. Or maybe she wouldn't have been his type at all. She was pretty sure that Mick Jagger wasn't having intercourse with his local doctor.

He took the file but didn't open it as he already knew it was the patient that Cameron had been dealing with earlier. How boring. Why would she want to create a mystery for him to solve when she already was a mystery?

The song came to an end and he rolled the chair back and stopped the Ipod.

"Well?"

"It was…" She picked up a pen from his desk. She had no idea about guitar music really. "It was kind of hot."

"Hot weather equals hot music." He took the pen from her, his fingers grazing hers and wrote a big fat "No" across the file. Going over it several times to make the ink darker.

"Fine." She muttered. Taking it personally.

He looked up at her and blinked. "Don't be all grouchy."

She sighed, taking the file. "I prefer the winter."

She knew exactly what she was doing. She was giving him another piece of the puzzle. Tantalising him with a little reveal. Like letting a second button remain undone when she leant over him to pick up the file.

He rubbed the side of his forehead with his knuckle. Like she gave him a headache. "Fine. Why?"

"I don't know." She mused. "I like warm fires and mulled wine and big cosy sweaters."

He smirked. "You look like that and you like cosy sweaters? You're a crime against nature."

As if divine intervention suddenly struck, he stood up and peered down at her. She'd pushed him but he could push back. _Faster. Harder. Further. More._

"You wanna take a ride?" He walked over to pick up his jacket from the hat stand. "Princeton looks so much more appealing in the summer."

She shrugged. Her insides convulsing with the possibilities of this. _Please say you've brought your bike. _

"Ok," she murmured cautiously. Feeling flustered she walked over and put on her own jacket and then tied her hair up and away from her shoulders. Her hands shook slightly.

House looked her over. His eyes dragging across her lips and then her chest as she fastened a few buttons, leaving a deep "v" were he could make out the dip of her t-shirt.

She held the door open for him and felt him brush past her.

"I was thinking it might cool me down." She said as she walked beside him down the corridor.

He lowered his voice. "It might."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I'll settle for a cherry sundae. (Thanks to all reviewers so far. It's worth the wait...)  
**

IV

_What a ride. This is how he makes love._

She couldn't help but think it. Sitting on the back of his bike. Gripping his leather jacket. The bike vibrating to the pump of her blood in her ears. Moving with him as he guides the heavy machine around the twists and turns of the roads. Her legs shaking as they press against the back of his thighs. The heat between her legs driving into the back of his jeans.

_This is how he keeps control. _

He said something. She didn't hear what. Cocooned in the padding of the helmet she could pretend that it was something that would make her toes curl.

She thought about her fingers, resting either side of the zip on his jacket. How easy it would be to – but then he speeded up and they were stuck gripping and grasping for dear life and the idea of them moving down a couple of inches were lost somewhere in the panic.

_Look at the hot girl on the bike._

They'd pulled up to some lights and he'd put his leg out to steady the bike, moving against her ankle as he did so.

He glared at the frat pack filling the car next to him.

Five young guys gawped at Cameron as she slackened her grip on House's waist and waited for the lights to change.

"How hot is she?" One had said to another.

Cameron flushed bright red beneath the helmet but managed to glare at them with an icy stare.

"I'd fuck her." The freshest faced guy said angling his head out of the open window and peering at her legs as if she couldn't hear them.

She'd turned her head to glance at the car on the other side of her. Some school-run mom and crying kid.

She wondered if House had heard them.

_And then…_

When the lights turned green they'd pulled away so fast that she'd had to hold on for dear life. A million images of motorbike riders in the emergency room flashed through her mind.

XXX

"That wasn't funny!"

She'd dismounted the bike in the parking lot but was still trembling from the speed and the fear and the _what might happen next._

House got off and pulled off his helmet. "Those guys were bothering you and I know you're too polite to flip them the bird."

She struggled to remove her helmet and so House helped her gleefully revealing her flushed face and messy hair.

"How do you know I didn't flip them the bird?"

"Oh please." He said, removing his cane from the bike and setting it down on the gravel. "You were too busy holding on. Which I must add –"

She followed cautiously behind him.

"- has left teeth marks in my neck."

She rolled her eyes and caught up to him.

In front of them was a diner. A teenage girl stood on the step next to the entrance smoking a cigarette. She was wearing a little uniform with a chequered mini skirt.

"I love this place." House said almost smiling at the girl as they walked through the door.

She followed him to a booth and slid in opposite him. Her legs came to rest between his own and she watched him carefully.

"Is this a test?" She ran her fingers over the laminated menu in disdain.

"Huh?" House removed his jacket and slung it behind him.

"Do you wait until I've finished and then check to see if I'm throwing up in the bathroom?"

House gasped in mock surprise. "You know me so well."

"What then?"

House leaned into her. Puppy dog eyes scanning her face.

"To tell you the truth. I've had many happy times here. This was the place that I used to bring…"

She gulped hard. The hairs on the back of her neck starting to stand up. After all of this, they were so close was he going to bring her name into the frame. _Stacy?_

"Wilson. Before he got all fancy and swapped fries for pomme de frittes."

He noticed her relax a little and sink back onto the plastic ledge.

She scanned the menu and muttered: "You mean before you made him royally pissed?"

She heard him catch his breath. Had he laughed? Could it be possible?

A middle-aged waitress who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world on such a hot day sauntered over and directed her question out towards the open window: "You ready to order?"

House grabbed the menu from Cameron: "Two cherry sundaes."

Cameron grabbed the menu back: "And I'll have a soda float. Chocolate."

She smiled at the waitress who yawned and walked away.

"I don't like cherries."

House rested his chin on his hand and blinked: "What? What about when you used to tie a knot in the stalk with your tongue?"

"That wasn't me." She said, turning to look out of the window at the bike glinting in the sun. "Are you thinking of Wilson again?"

He nodded appreciatively. "There's me getting fantasy and reality confused again."

She looked back at him raising her eyebrows: "About Wilson?"

His beeper sounded and he grabbed it, angling it to read it in the sun.

"No. About you."

That threw her. She felt herself sliding into a big pool of emotional mush. Her pulse was banging against the side of her forehead. A rabbit caught in the headlights. She turned to peer back out of the window, feeling a slow flush creep over her.

"Do you really dream about me?" It came out a guttural whisper, almost inaudible beside the open window.

He didn't say anything, putting his beeper back in his pocket and following her stare to the parking lot and the open fields beyond.

"Does it matter?"

"I'd like to know." She tried to stay cool, watching the teenage waitress throw her cigarette butt down into the dried mud.

"Why?" His voice was so steady.

Hers jumping, changing octave, rushing and then faltering: "Because it means…"

"Dreams don't mean anything just because Freud –"

He was stopped by the reappearance of the older waitress with the sundaes and the chocolate float.

Cameron was glad. She knew he'd been about to deliver a speech that would silence her. She couldn't let that happen again. Not now.

They both ate in silence. She watched him steadily. He consumed both the sundaes and half of her float when she'd eaten as much as she could stomach with his eyes on her mouth.

His cell phone rang. He answered and she started to pull her jacket back on. It was a reminder in a hazy moment that they should be back at work.

She was buttoning up when she heard him say: "By the way, I've never seen anything as erotic as Allison Cameron eating ice cream."

She stopped dead in her tracks and peered up at him. Her eyes flashing brown and then green. _Oh my god. _

He swapped his cell phone from one hand to the next. "And no, buddy, I don't want to change my bike insurance."

He snapped the phone shut and looked up at her. He grinned. A slow grin that he couldn't stop.

"Ridiculous." She said as she headed out of the door first. She tried to hide the trace of a smile on her lips.

Outside she waited next to his bike and watched him limping towards her.

She was almost wet with anticipation for the journey back. How she'd hold onto him. How they'd be so close and how she could enjoy it without giving anything away.

He held out her helmet to her:" You ready?"

She nodded. Breathed. Her breath unsteady.

He took a step towards her, bringing the helmet above her head.

She closed her eyes waiting to feel the heaviness come down across her face and encase her head.

Instead she waited. Eye lids flickering. Strands of hair wiping across her face in the breeze. Mouth open. Poised.

The sensation was slow at first. A slight prickle across her lips. A gentle softness moving over her top lip and then the taste of cherries and ice cream.

His hand pulled her by the neck into him. His kiss like an epic. Like Clark Gable and Rock Hudson and Steve McQueen. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip and then her teeth and then probed further into her.

She felt limp and otherworldly as he kissed her. Deeper. Harder. Pulling her closer. Too close. Not close enough.

His hand tangled in her hair and he tried to undo it adding a thread of pain to her web of desire.

She kissed him back. _Softly. Delicately. Gently. _

She opened her eyes as she did. Shocked by his actions. By her own. And she noticed his furrowed brow. His eyes were shut tightly. Concentrating but there was a definite frown.

She brought her hand up to his face, and kissed him deeper. Her tongue submitting and then lashing against his. She ran her fingers over his frown, trying to smooth it out without him noticing but then just giving up and concentrating on the moment.

She moved her hands to his arms, trying to break his hold. Trying to break his kiss. This was too much. She felt like she was on fire. Like she needed him to unbutton his jeans quickly and discreetly and start to slowly fuck her.

It was too much. She was kissing him. He was kissing her.

_House was kissing her. And he wasn't just doing it. He was meaning it. _

Finally, she struggled and broke free.

She grabbed the helmet and pulled it down over her face.

He looked at her for a moment. What good were words now? What good had they ever been between the two of them?

He released his grip on her arm and got onto the bike, putting on his own helmet and pulling the visor down.

She slid into the seat behind him and he started the engine which didn't much help her uneasy breathing and she shifted so that her clit – that already felt like it was on fire – wasn't pressed right against the vibrating seat.

They sped away, heading back to the hospital, but wondering where they'd go from there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: They are not mine. If they were we'd sure have some fun.**

V.

Wilson waited for them, clutching an armload of paper work, watching his shadow slowly lengthen in the afternoon sun until it became the height of House's parking space.

The bike pulled up and Cameron hopped off. She leaned back and steadied herself on House's arm as she dismounted.

"Had fun?" Wilson said, holding out the files to Cameron before she even had a chance to take off her helmet.

She grappled with them and Wilson pulled the helmet off for her.

"I found them in my office. Figured as you'd be doing the filing anyway..."

She raised her eyebrow, momentarily looking from House (who was taking his cane from its holder) to Wilson and back again.

"Thought you might want to grab a soda first."

Cameron presumed he was speaking to House, not her, and so she turned on her heels and began to make for the entrance to the hospital.

Wilson caught up with her. "Hey, the cafeteria's this way."

She paused, mid-step and looked back.

House was struggling to hold both helmets and walk with his cane. It was a pitiful sight.

Wilson sighed: "Don't worry about him."

She grimaced. Desperately wanting to go help him out but not wanting to make a show of it.

"He'll be fine," and then under his breath: "He always is."

XXX

She sat on the floor in his office. Surrounded by box files and mounds of paper.

Whatever had occurred between Wilson and House meant that Wilson wanted every trace of House out of his office. This meant the return of all of House's case notes that he'd forgotten to collect from oncology at various points over the years.

She sighed. She'd be there all night.

The sun was slowly setting and there was a definite chill in the air. She wondered if she had heat stroke or maybe she was getting sick. Could it have been the kiss…

_You get enough germs to catch pneumonia_

She heard the sound of the door opening.

"Bastard." House said shuffling over to stand above her.

She watched as he kicked a file open with his foot.

"I know he wants to make me suffer so he's taking it out on you."

Cameron took the file and moved safely away from House.

"I don't think so. I think he's just trying to get some order back into his life."

She could almost hear House shake his head.

"Get up."

_She hadn't finished. Nowhere near. If she left the mess on the floor she'd only have to do it all tomorrow and then they might have a case and then -_

House grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up to her feet. His grip had left indentations along the inside of her elbow and she ran her fingers over the marks that remained.

He looked her over again and then cleared his throat. "About earlier."

She felt shy. Embarrassed. Unprofessional. She felt like she was about fourteen years old and had been forced to read out her deepest darkest poetry in English lit class.

"What about it?" She said, immediately clenching. Her defences were up. She needed to protect herself.

"Maybe it was a mistake." He took a step back remembering how she'd looked as she'd walked away with Wilson who was younger, more attractive, maintaining full mobility skills.

The blood rose into Cameron's face. She wondered how she looked. Hoped that maybe she could mask her true feelings in the half-light of dusk.

"It didn't feel like a mistake," She hissed. Anger making her ball her hands into fists by her side. _Not again. Please._

He lent against his desk and looked down at his sneakers. "I don't know. I don't want to mess everything up. It seems –" he looked up at her from beneath his frown:

"- it was just something that we needed to do at the time."

She gasped but managed to regain some control of her emotions. Old, old tears were working their way up to the back of her eyes.

_What I am is what you need... I'm damaged._

"No." She began quietly. Focusing on the dark window behind him so that she didn't have to meet his eyes.

"No." She said louder, striding over to him and stopping when she could feel his breath on her face.

"No." Defiantly.

_Why do you let him treat you like this, Allison? She'd ripped off her corsage and thrown it across the room. She dispensed with her shoes and studied her reflection in her bathroom mirror, her face streaked with the evening's mascara. Her throat dry and coarse from sobbing._

"No?"

House dipped his head a little, down to meet hers and lifted her bangs away from her eyes so that he could see her. His eyes flickered with amusement.

She carefully met his gaze. Everything rehearsed. All that she should have said and all that she was about to say.

"You don't get to do this to me this time."

He cocked his head to the side and noticed for the first time the tiny pearl stud in her left ear.

"I want to be with you. It's maybe not what I _need_ and it's definitely not _the right thing_ but deal with it. Because it's what I want. And that's all there is."

She couldn't control her breathing any longer. She put up her hand to her chest to calm herself and whispered: "I'm sorry."

House rolled his eyes and shifted further to the edge of his desk. He studied her like she was delicate. Like he was about to break her:

"The right thing would be to walk out of here now. And not look back."

She bit her lip as his face drew nearer.

"I can't." She whimpered, almost catching his bottom lip as she did.

"Neither can I," he said into her mouth, the vibration humming against her teeth.

He kissed her slowly, winding his hands around her body until he was holding her so close to him that he was sure he'd crushed her.

Her tongue swirled with his in unison and her hands made languid circles on his back. She moved away from his mouth to kiss his neck and let the roughness of his chin drag painfully across her cheek.

"Come home with me," she said softly, running a hand down past his inner thigh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't own them. Do own my imagination which can be just as good.**

VI

All roads lead to Rome. All breaths and touches and secret glances lead to this one moment.

She opened her apartment door and flicked on the switch letting the light flood in around her and wake her up momentarily. Her hands shook with desire but in the harsh light of the halcyon bulb she felt small and stupid and afraid.

House followed her, dumbly, stepping into uncharted territory.

She moved over to her couch and started to tidy her cushions and throws away.

He scanned her bookshelf: a beguiling mix of chick lit and medical journals and the odd classic gathering dust.

She moved over to the window and pulled the curtains shut feeling him watching her back. She tried to stand up straight and tall, pretend to be cool. _Pretend._

She span around. He rested his full body back against the door and watched her curiously.

She didn't know what to do with her arms so she crossed them and cleared her throat: "Would you like a drink?"

He shrugged. "I'm okay."

_You're supposed to say yes. You're supposed to go over to the couch and let me make you a whiskey sour and talk to me and tell me little bits and pieces about your life. You're supposed to compliment me on the décor of the room. You're supposed to laugh at my poor attempts at jokes. You're supposed to be someone else._

She took a tentative step towards him. "Do you want me to take your jacket?"

He shrugged again.

She wondered about music. Did she have any CDs that he'd actually approve of? Probably not. She'd never planned this far ahead before. The idea that they'd even kiss had always seemed so remote.

"Please," She nodded her head to the couch, "Take a seat."

"I'm okay," he said, a slight smirk escaping from the corners of his mouth.

Was it over before it had begun?

She let her hands drop to her hips and frowned.

He raised his eyebrows at the sudden movement.

She sighed: "Why are you making this so difficult?"

After a moment's silence he removed his jacket and threw it onto the nearest chair. He flung his cane on top.

"It's supposed to be." He said softly. "This isn't something that should be taken lightly."

She was startled to see a glimpse of concern in his face and it threw her for a second.

"Right." She tried to sound calm and relaxed but her heart was fluttering and she was losing her battle to control it. "Well, good because I've thought about it a lot and you should know…I don't do this every day."

She swallowed hard and moved towards him. Pushing him back into the door. Pinning his arms there with her hands. She moved them slowly along his muscular biceps and up to his hands. Trapped.

The move had both shocked and fascinated him and as she pressed into him she could feel his erection beginning to press into her stomach.

Her eyes changed from green to brown and then back again as she studied his face, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth and then left a trail of kisses along the neckline of his tshirt as her breasts brushed his chest.

He gasped. She grinned.

He broke free of her grasp and put his hands on her waist, searching for skin beneath her t-shirt and making her shiver as his fingers circled her pelvic bone.

He started to kiss her hard. Sucking life and breath and anxiety out of her and replacing all of it with the smell of cigars and after-shave and an almost tangible heat.

His hands moved up her body playing with her bra straps. She ran her fingers across his smooth tight stomach and felt his muscles ripple and then relax as she started to unbuckle his belt.

"_There are some guys," Her friend Amy had once said to her when they'd sat up late watching an old Clint Eastwood movie. "Who you just know are gonna be good. They don't have to be good looking, they don't even have to be nice people but you just know that they're gonna be so good with their hands. They've got experience and they know how to work it and it shows in everything they do."_

House's hands pulled her tshirt over her head and started to caress her nipples through her bra. She thought she was going to die.

She managed to unbutton his jeans and pull them half way down his thighs. She slid her hand into his boxers. He was huge and hard. She was about to look down to see just what she was dealing with when he suddenly grabbed her chin and pulled her face flush to his.

She watched his eyes closely and time started to slow down. Their breathing began to synchronise. It was happening. It was so good. He slowly slid into her, his eyelids fluttering briefly as she tightened around him, and they began to move, a rhythm developing between them.

He thrust, hard, firm, slowly, into her and she started to melt around him. Her eyes saw his pupils expand and saw her own reflection. A wanton expression. Tongue running across her lips. A bead of sweat on her forehead. And she could have been dying. But she wasn't. She was being fucked, hard, by House and as he slid further and deeper into her she couldn't decide which seemed more unlikely, his cock inside her or being dead.

The rhythm got faster. The room got hotter. Her eyes started to close. He pushed her into the door, gauging her reaction with every stroke. She grabbed his ass and brought him further to her. He was as deep as he could go. As deep as anyone had ever been.

She was going to come. She wanted to tell him. Make him see what he'd done to her. Let him know that he was the best fuck she'd ever had but all she could do was breath and whimper and gasp and dig her fingers into his ass and look up at the ceiling and begin to shudder wildly as the sensation rocked her body from the throbbing muscles in her forehead to the curl of her toes.

She fell back against the door. Unable to breathe. He stayed inside her riding out his own orgasm, banging against the door, his eyes dark with possession and desire.

And then he shuddered too as he bit his lip and raised his chin up to the ceiling, stretching up to his full height before slamming back down inside her for the last time.

She grabbed his shoulders. Reluctant to feel him pull out of her.

He wiped the bead of sweat from her forehead and carefully removed himself. He pulled his jeans back up and picked up his cane.

Her mind was muddled and her breathing was finally slowing down. She sank to the ground as she pulled her tshirt on. But then realised that she couldn't get up. Her world was a snowglobe and he'd just shaken it up completely. Little pieces of who she was fell back down slowly as she looked around her apartment and caught sight of old photographs on shelves and her slippers tucked under the couch.

"God," she muttered. Tears sprung to her eyes quite unexpectedly and she managed to wipe them away with the back of her hand.

House turned to look at her on the ground. His face reddened.

She collected herself and stood up, pulling her pants up and combing her hair with her fingers.

"Well." He said, simply.

She waited for a snarky remark but there was little to say and they both knew it.

She looked at him. His fingers gripped his bad thigh and she felt a wave of sympathy for him.

"I'll get you some water," She said. Meaning for his Vicodin.

"Yeah," He said. "I'm feeling kind of breathless."

She moved to head to the kitchen, to step around him, not daring to tempt fate.

"Wait" He said as she squeezed past him.

She paused.

He ran a finger down the back of her neck and tucked the label into her shirt. She trembled and he replaced his finger with a soft and gentle kiss at the top of her spine.

_Boy, you're in trouble. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I want House, and occasionally Wilson, but they belong to Fox and David Shore. Damn it. **

VII.

How could she function normally? _And just what was normal?_

Chase and Foreman mused around the office, drinking coffee and flicking through files, sitting back in chairs and stretching and yawning.

Cameron kept glancing at the clock. She was tired. She hadn't slept. Her body had pulsated all night from the memory of his touch. She removed the clip from her hair and then took out her small mirrored compact and comb.

She examined her reflection carefully. She had bags under her eyes and she'd forgotten to apply foundation that morning but aside from that she was no different. On the outside. No one would know that inside she'd been shaken and turned upside down.

In the mirror she saw House walk through the door behind her. He hooked his cane onto the back of a chair and surveyed his team, buoyantly.

She stared at his figure. Imagining what he might have looked like. She'd been so self-contained with her own needs the night before that she hadn't even thought about how they'd looked. Together. Linked. Her hands grabbing his ass, pulling him deeper into her.

She angled the mirror so that she could look further down his body. House was the kind of man that jeans were made for. He looked so good. She breathed into the mirror and condensation blocked her view.

"Chase, I hope you've brought your prettiest dress with you today. We're going to a party."

This caught everybody's attention. Chase stopped spinning in his chair. Foreman looked up from his paperwork. Cameron put her compact back in her bag.

"We are?" Chase said. Almost excitedly.

Cameron tried to catch House's gaze but it fell past her to Foreman.

"And you. Cancel all your dates for this evening!" House pointed his finger in Foreman's direction; "We're going to party like it's 1984. But this time the proles get to win."

_George Orwell, _Cameron said to herself. Pleased that she actually understood one of his references for once. But she sensed that he was feeling uncomfortable and so decided not to be teacher's pet today.

"Where are we going?" Chase asked, still a little excited.

"Wilson's birthday party. Sport's bar on Maple Lane. Tonight. He's buying the margaritas."

Cameron frowned and watched House as he went over to get a coffee.

"I thought you weren't speaking to Wilson?" She asked quietly, scanning his face.

He actually couldn't look at her. This was becoming pretty obvious. He directed his reply to Foreman: "I said _he's _buying margaritas. Surely this is self-explanatory."

Foreman grimaced, tried to make Cameron giggle, but she was more concerned about House's obvious embarrassment.

_Was this it? The end? End it now. Make it easier. Move on?_

The previous night he'd stood in her kitchen and drank a glass of water. He'd mocked her when she'd gone to wash the glass the second he put it back on the table. He'd told her that he'd never been with anyone as beautiful as her and maybe he never would again. She'd laughed and frowned and took his long fingers in her own as she walked with him to the door.

_Now she knew exactly what he meant. _

She watched his fingers gripping the coffee mug. His face was flushed and he stared intently at the whiteboard that was, for now, redundant without a new case to liven it up.

"What time is this thing?" Foreman said, taking out his cell phone, probably preparing to message his girlfriend.

"Eight-thirty," House said manoeuvring around the desk and towards his own office. He brushed past Cameron's hair and she turned to watch him.

She drew herself up: "Am I invited?"

"Of course." He muttered, going into his own room and pulling the door shut with his cane.

"Are you cold?" Chase moved into the chair next to her. "It's like ninety degrees and you have goose bumps on your arms."

She smiled and crossed them across her chest.

She wasn't the cold one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Shore and Fox own their asses.**

VIII.

A large circular table in a dimly lit sport's bar. The faces of Chase, Foreman, Wilson, Cuddy, House and countless other doctors blurred through the dirty windows and against the streetlights. Cameron had been home to change. She'd thought about wearing something low and revealing in a vague attempt to make House want to fuck her again. But then she'd decided to be cool and calm and pretend that she could handle his refusal to meet her gaze.

She pulled her Bridget Bardot top a little further up over her shoulders and smoothed down her pencil skirt. Tonight she was bringing sexy back in a very understated way.

Her patent leather heels clicked on the sidewalk.

As she opened the heavy door she made a silent prayer to the ghosts of Marilyn Monroe and Grace Kelly that she could remain poised and controlled throughout the evening.

"Allison!" Wilson was the first to see her and he left the table and wove his way through the crowd to meet her.

He looked relaxed and happy and she could smell alcohol resting heavily on his breath.

"Happy birthday," She said and kissed him lightly on the side of his cheek, suddenly feeling a sense of camaraderie between them in their shared isolation from House.

Wilson studied her momentarily, his eyes travelling over the porcelain skin of her neck and shoulders.

His hand circled her waist and he led her to the table.

There was no time for the grand entrance she'd planned.

The circle of people smiled up at her and waved, mid-drinking game, and she began to feel a lot more relaxed.

Cuddy made a space for her and she stepped across Chase's knees and slid in beside her boss.

"You have some catching up to do!" Cuddy smiled at her warmly and nodded at some of the younger doctors who were now slumped over empty pitchers.

Cameron smiled back at Cuddy, taking in the sexy musk of her perfume and noting the way her hair curled perfectly down her back. She was wearing a low cut silk shirt in midnight blue and the sparkling bracelet on her wrist was made up of real sapphires.

Cameron didn't have to ask_. She just knew it_. She wished that she could be as strong and intoxicating as Cuddy.

She looked around the table. Her face coming to rest on _his_.

House wasn't doing the margarita thing. He was sat between two surgeons that she knew he hated. He looked completely uncomfortable. He rolled a glass of whisky on the rocks around before taking a long draw of it. As he did, his eyes met hers.

She wanted to convey something to him. Wanted him to know that she wasn't going to embarrass him. That there must be a better way of moving on than ignoring each other.

He got up. Stumbling around people and picking up his cane from the back of his chair.

He moved to the bar.

Cameron followed him and came to rest beside him.

_Maybe she was too close_. He moved away as he gave his order of another whisky to the barman.

"Hi." She said.

"Hi." He replied, examining the barstool between them.

"I just want you to know that I won't embarrass you."

House didn't reply. He slid onto the stool and surveyed the room. His eyes refusing to meet hers.

She looked at the gleaming bottles of spirits behind the bar – _please don't do this to me - _and continued to speak in a low voice: "I don't know who you think I am but I do know how to conduct myself. I'm not going to blurt out that we had sex in the middle of a differential."

He took his drink from the barman. She watched his fingers grip the cold glass. She shivered at the memory of them on her body.

There was something about his refusal to meet her gaze that hurt her. It cut her somewhere between her heart and her stomach but she would never let him know this. The ghost of Grace Kelly wouldn't allow it.

"Listen…" He began.

"You look amazing," Chase murmured, appearing next to her.

She smiled graciously, turning away from House, to address her colleague. Just like Grace would have done.

XXX 

She followed Foreman and Chase across the underground parking lot. They were arm in arm, drunk, and singing as they jostled towards her car.

She paused beside a concrete post and dug in her bag to retrieve her car keys.

Suddenly she felt a presence beside her. She turned in the dark and caught a glimpse of his eyes. She shook her head quickly. _Imaging things._

Shakily she dropped her keys on the ground.

As she bent down to retrieve them, the rubber stopper of a cane stamped down next to her hand.

She looked up at him and he brought a finger to his lips.

"Sssh!"

Even that sound echoed in the empty space.

House used his cane to press the sensor on her key ring and her car doors beeped and unlocked themselves. She heard Chase and Foreman get in and slam the doors shut.

She stood up, starting to feel annoyed. With _him _for showing up. With _her_ for feeling the first tinglings of anger and desire and _what ifs _that began to slowly invade her thoughts.

Anger should win, she reasoned. He'd ignored her all day. Too little. Too late.

"What do you want?" She whispered.

He moved back to the other side of the post so that he was out of view of Foreman and Chase and she could only see his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"I thought now would be a good time…" He said quietly and controlled.

At first she didn't move. Then she slung her bag around her shoulder and shot him a look of disdain that he probably couldn't even see: "Now is not a good time."

She set one foot in front of the other preparing to walk away. To drive Foreman and Chase home. To settle back into her night-time routine of hot chocolate and sweet dreams.

She felt his hands grab her around the waist, pulling her back to him, hard. Her feet leaving the ground as he dragged her backwards.

She gasped. Tried to break free. It was a half-hearted attempt. Her skin was already starting to prickle and burn.

He held her like that for a second. Both hands clasped around her middle. His erection pressing into the small of her back. He was rough and insistent. His warm body enveloping hers. He ran his mouth along the exposed skin of her shoulder and then dug his teeth in a little and slowly sucked.

She wriggled out of his grasp and turned to face him. Her eyes wide. Shocked.

"What are you doing?" She nervously rubbed where his teeth marks had been and looked up into his face.

He looked as flustered as she felt and his breathing was ragged and loud.

She rearranged the neckline of her top as she whispered: "Chase and Foreman are just over there. They're in my car. Waiting for me to take them home."

He looked down, sulkily. "Come home with me."

It was exactly what she'd said to him the previous night. But so much had happened since then.

"What?" She said, trying to control her voice to a whisper. "After being ignored all day? Not talking to me? Not even acknowledging my presence?"

She stepped away from him:

"I mean, is that your idea of foreplay?"

He smirked. She hated it when he did that. Like he knew all her secrets.

He shook his head and grabbed her arm:

"No. This is my idea of foreplay."

He pushed her back against the cold post and stumbled down to his knees. He hitched her skirt up, running his hands along the insides of her trembling thighs and pulling hard at her pantyhose until she heard a rip.

She bit her lip. She could taste blood.

She raised her hands in protest, but it was too late.

He dragged her pantyhose and lacy thong down to her knees and then breathed into the hotness of her, running his hands over the smattering of hair between her legs and then pulling her lips apart roughly and tentatively flicking his tongue over her clit.

Her hands moved to his head, desperately needing to push him away. _Desperately needing him. _

Her fingers caught up in his hair – he gasped at this and the licking and sucking and nibbling became more intense – she rocked back against the cold concrete behind her, her head hitting the post, making her dizzy and confused.

His tongue moved lower as he sucked her hard and then she felt long strokes around her entrance and he was in her.

She closed her eyes, wondering how much more she could take. She no longer cared that Foreman and Chase were just metres away in the car, House consumed her and it felt like the biggest trip of her life.

She rocked on her heels as he moved his hands around to span her ass.

His tongue slickly circling and then driving into her entrance. Again and again until she could feel sharp warm spasms building up in her abdominal muscles and travelling down right to her centre.

_Ah, God. Please. That's right. Just there. You're so fucking good. You're so fucking good. I'm gonna come. Please, Greg, I'm gonna come. Greg._

"Greg…" She whimpered, her voice high and strangled. She fell forward as wave upon wave of orgasm hit her.

"Uh huh?" The vibration of his response sent her pulse sky high and she convulsed.

He held her in place and felt her muscles constrict around his tongue.

Something inside her exploded and she fell back against the post. Gasping, sweating, hazily stuck in the moment of utter fulfilment.

His fingers deftly pulled her clothing back up her legs, his hands taking a moment to span out across her shaky thighs before he reached up and grabbed her wrist so that he could stand.

She stared at him. His mouth wet and his lips full and red.

He cocked his head examining her face caught in a snap shot of after glow.

She wanted to reach for him. Wanted to return the favour but even though she was still trembling, sights and sounds of where they were standing were coming back to her.

"Next time…" She began.

His eyes flicked to her mouth: "You're bleeding."

He ran a finger along her lip and held it up to her.

It was too dark to see but she took the opportunity to grasp his hand, her small fingers tangling with his own.

"Next time, Greg –" She was still testing his name. Seeing how it fit, her voice shaken: "I get to scream."

He nodded and stepped away from her back into the shadows.

She knew that she looked like she'd been completely ravished but she was reluctant to straighten herself out. She wanted to leave him on her lips, her shoulder, her clit.

Besides, Foreman and Chase had already fallen asleep in the back of the car by the time she opened the driver's side.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I want them, but they are the property of Fox and Shore.**

IX.

She opened her eyes slowly and dragged herself up to a sitting position, surveying her empty sunlight room. Nothing was different. _Everything was different._

The sound of the bedside phone had woken her. She had no idea what time it was. It was another lonely Saturday, what did time matter?

She paused over the receiver. What if it was _him? _What if he was outside her apartment right now dialling from his cell phone?

"Hello?"

"Hi Sugar," Amy's Southern drawl immediately made her sigh with relief and she settled back into her pillows.

"Hi, how are you doing?" She smiled widely, so glad to hear a friendly voice.

She'd met Amy at college. It was a story that they both liked to recount every time they met. Allison had spotted the petite girl crying in the corner of the dorm and had approached her with concern. Amy's tears tripped down the end of her cute little freckled nose and she'd allowed herself to be hugged and consoled by Allison, accepting a tissue and agreeing to go get a coffee with her.

At the end of their meeting Amy had leant forward and whispered in Allison's ear: "Thank you sugar."

Allison was surprised, thinking she was referring to the three espressos she'd bought the snivelling girl: "That's ok, you can shout me next time."

"Oh no," She said, getting up and pulling a bright pink hat over her shock of black hair, "I meant for helping me rehearse. Your improvisation skills are fantastic."

She'd left the young, foolish naïve wannabe-doctor to sip her coffee and feel used.

Allison swore that she'd never befriend a drama student ever again. But Amy was persuasive and the following week she'd practically moved in to her room.

_Of course, when the hugging and consoling had really been needed it had been Amy who had held Allison's hand and supported her thin frame as they'd stepped out of the funeral car._

"What's up?" Cameron asked, wrapping the phone line around her fingers. An old habit.

"I just wanted to talk to you," Amy said. Noise of traffic behind her suggested that she was out and about on the streets of New York.

"Why so early?"

"It's the afternoon." Amy laughed. "Are you…in bed?"

Amy was now an actress off Broadway and she had a way of conveying the simplest of words. _In bed?_

Cameron smiled, "Yes, but I'm alone."

Amy gasped down the receiver: "Alone?" She drew the word out; probably crossing from one side of the street to the other in the time it took her to say it.

Cameron laughed. "Yes."

"But you weren't? Before? I mean, you're always _alone_. Why suddenly mention it?"

Cameron hated that her friend could figure her out like that. All the defences she tried to build up around herself meant nothing to Amy. Amy had seen her at her weakest, a broken thing throwing clumps of dirt onto the top of a coffin; there really was no point in lying to her.

Cameron looked up at her clean, white ceiling, wondering if she'd regret what she was about to say: "I _may _have gotten intimate with somebody."

It sounded like Amy had entered a building. The traffic noises switched off and the line suddenly silenced.

"Are you still there?"

"No." Amy said quietly, "I've just fallen under a car in shock."

Cameron smiled, a grin spreading across her whole face. She was so pleased to be able to tell someone. Someone who wouldn't judge her.

"I'm in the library," Amy said, "Just looking for a table to sit at. So tell me everything. _Slowly._"

"It was the guy I told you about before –" Cameron said carefully, she wanted to be all dramatic like Amy but she had to phrase her sentences just right, "- the one that I've liked for a really long time."

"Right," Amy whispered. "The boss-guy? The guy with a girlfriend?"

"He doesn't have a girlfriend," Cameron quickly corrected her, not wanting her to add unnecessary drama: "He used to have a girlfriend. I went for a ride on his bike."

"You never told me had a bike!" Amy exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, he does. And we drove to this diner in the middle of nowhere and he kissed me."

"Did you kiss him back?"

"What do you think?" Cameron blushed. "I've wanted this guy for like three years."

Amy giggled more.

"Anyway, later that day I kissed him. And then on the night we –"

"Oh my God!" Amy squealed just at the right moment, "You little tramp!"

Cameron giggled. She couldn't help it. Amy made her laugh.

"Was it good? Was he gentle? Was he rough? Was he wild? Was he dirty? Are you going to do it again?"

Cameron knew that her friend was practically bouncing up and down in the air now.

She moved and propped her head up on her elbow: "Don't you care that people are probably watching you?"

"Would I be in my line of work if I did?" Amy said matter-of-factly: "Was it worth the wait then?"

"Yes." Cameron breathed. "But I'm not finished – so last night we went to this party and things progressed and we ended up, um, doing stuff."

She paused. Suddenly realising that she had no way of phrasing it nicely.

"What stuff?"

"Um," Cameron lowered her voice even though there was no one to hear her, "Promise me you won't squeal…he went down on me. In the parking lot."

Amy gasped. "Ok," She said, her breathing quick and short, "Let me get this straight. This sexy brilliant funny older guy who you've had a crush on for forever rides you off on his bike like he's your knight in shining armour and then makes sweet love to you and then, as if that wasn't enough, he goes down on you in the open air? That's the hottest thing I've ever heard! I so want your life!"

Cameron smiled. It wasn't quite like that but she enjoyed Amy's version better.

"I should go," Amy said, "Let you get back to your debauched existence."

"I told you. He's not here."

She sat up and moved the covers away from her, watching the rise and fall of her taut stomach: "Truth is, in between the events I've just described to you, he's pretty much ignored me."

Amy paused for a long time and then, her voice full of concern, "Are you ok with that? Did you want a fuck buddy?"

Cameron grimaced. It wasn't what she wanted. _Not at all._

Amy filled in the silence, knowing her too well: "Then you have to talk to him, sugar. Don't be his dirty little secret unless you want him to be yours."

Cameron suddenly felt embarrassed. She'd ruined the story: "I don't know if it's like that."

"Ok," Amy said tentatively, "But obviously, I'm gonna be on your side, no matter what happens. I love you."

"I love you too," Cameron replied automatically. Amy was the only friend that she ever said this to. In fact, she didn't even say it to her own family. But there was something about Amy. Her blind faith. Her easy acceptance. She did love her.

_The two people she loved most in the world at that precise moment couldn't be more different. _

"Call me Monday," Amy whispered, hanging up and probably heading deeper into the library.

Cameron ran her fingers over the receiver as the line went dead.

It was a long time until Monday morning.

_A lot of hours to keep a dirty little secret. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **House and Cameron belong to Fox and David Shore. I'll take the cute jogger guy as compensation.

X

Cameron took her usual Sunday afternoon run. It was the first time she'd stepped out of her apartment all weekend and the heat hit her, reminding her that the long drawn out summer wasn't letting up.

She also needed to shake off some of her pent-up frustration.

She jogged slowly at first, neutralising herself to the warmth but then her pace increased as she headed into the nearby park.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. She slowed down to watch some children throwing bread to the ducks in the pond and a group of little boys playing a softball game.

Summer wasn't so bad after all.

She passed two male joggers, one of which – the cuter one she noticed – turned and immediately back stepped to her.

"Hey."

She nodded. She'd seen him before.

"I see you every Sunday," he said wiping his face with his t-shirt and ducking his head to catch her eye.

She slowed to a stop and looked him over quickly. He was maybe mid-20s. His lean athletic body showed that he didn't only run, he obviously spent a lot time in the gym too. He had short blond hair and green eyes. He had a warm face and dimples when he smiled. He smiled. A lot. She could tell. He seemed comfortable in his own skin.

Cameron smiled back at him. He had this infectious thing going on.

"Yeah," He said, getting his breathing under control smoothly, "I see you every Sunday and I figured that this Sunday I'd ask you out."

She watched the dimple in his cheek: "Oh you did, did you?"

She wiped her face and took a drink from her water bottle.

"And your answer is?"

Cameron pressed her stomach to prevent a stitch from forming there and looked back at this cute guy. "I'm taken."

The guy blinked and looked around. "You are? Well, where is he?"

She shook her head in amusement and watched as the guy thought for a second.

"Maybe you'll be available next Sunday?" He persisted.

"Sorry," she shrugged. _Maybe I will._

She started to run again and turned to see him staring after her. He saluted and headed off in the other direction to catch up with his friend.

_She felt sorry for him and also a little sorry for herself. There he was. Her perfect match. Athletic, funny, cute, and her own age and if he'd only asked her last Sunday or the Sunday before – who knows where she might have ended up? _

She found a park bench and did a few muscle stretches against it to relieve her aching tendons before sitting down and lying her head back to look at the clouds.

Her cell phone rang and she answered without thinking.

It had to be Amy.

"No, I'm not telling you any more details. I said I'd call you tomorrow and I will," She giggled watching the crisp white clouds roll by.

"Cameron?" His voice was low and questioning.

She sat bolt up right.

"Details?" He persisted.

She covered her mouth with her hand. _Shit. _

"Yeah," She said thinking fast, "Some guy asked me out."

"Right." House said quietly.

"In the park," She watched a child cycle past her on a little red bike, streamers fluttering from the handlebars in the afternoon breeze.

House paused and she wondered if he was still there.

"House?"

"What?"

"Are you ok?"

"Not really," He began. "Do you know where that file on immunisation is?"

It was so vague. She laughed quietly and then frowned a little. She knew that she was playing right into his hands: "Why? Where are you?"

"At work," He said.

"And you rang me because you want me to come in and do your filing. On a _Sunday_?" She tried to make her voice sound as dramatic as Amy's did.

"No. I rang you because I don't know how you file and I don't know where you file."

She smirked. Imagining him up to his neck in paper and not knowing where to turn next.

"Or," she said lowering her voice. "You rang me because you're trying to make me feel guilty enough to help you."

"Or," he retorted quickly, "I rang you because we have some unfinished business and if I don't see you in the next few hours I may spontaneously combust."

"Or," she said, sliding off the bench and standing up, "Your rang me because you know that I jog on a Sunday and just want to see me shuffling paper and wearing short shorts."

"Or…" he began and then swallowed. "It's all of the above actually. Are you far away?"

She was surprised. She felt coy and excited but she remembered what Amy had said about being a dirty little secret: "Can't you meet me half way?"

"Where?"

She watched a man selling balloons.

"The park."

"You're already in the park!" He growled and hung up.

_She waited for him. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Fox, Shore, etc have ownership, not me.

XI.

House pulled up in his corvette.

Cameron stood under the shade of a tree and watched from a safe distance.

He was wearing sunglasses and his hair had blown around during his journey. He slammed the car door shut and stood surveying the park. _Looking for her._

She dialled his number on her cell phone and watched him answer: "Where are you?"

A tingle ran down her spine. Did her name show up on his phone? Was she on speed dial?

"I'm underneath the willow tree," She said quietly.

She watched him look around and then spot her in the distance.

She waved and then felt shy and stupid.

"How poetic…" he said and made his way across the field towards her. Cane in one hand and phone in the other he walked slowly and purposely. "I thought you said you were wearing short shorts," he breathed down the receiver.

She slammed her phone shut and put it into the pocket of her knee-skimming attire.

She nervously watched him approach. He was looking unbelievably sexy. The idea that she could touch him now – _the spell broken _– that she could run her hands down his arms, squeeze his ass, drag her hand down between his shoulder blades, take his cock in her mouth and make him come, turned her on. She tried to keep her thoughts in check.

_He must never know. If he did, he'd be unbearable._

He ducked under a large branch and into the shade. The disturbance caused some of the willows to flutter and he brushed them from his t-shirt.

His eyes danced over her appearance and she suddenly felt very unattractive. Her hair stuck to her face and her exposed middle (where her sports top ended) was sticky and pale with sweat.

"How was the filing?" She asked, offering him her water bottle.

He declined and watched her take a long drink and then wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, "Fascinating."

There were things that she needed to say to him. About the other night. _What happens next? Are we…?_

An awkward silence passed between them.

She sat down amongst the daisies and the freshly cut grass. Propping herself up against the bark of the tree and feeling it's roughness against her back.

"Okay," House said slowly, looking down at her. "Do we have to do small talk before I get my payback?"

She didn't hear him, watching dreamily through the long branches of the tree as the water of the duck pond ebbed and flowed against the afternoon breeze.

"I said -" He began, hooking his cane on a branch and settling down next to her. He changed tack when he saw her faraway expression. "Who we're you expecting a call from earlier?"

"My friend," she muttered nervously and then to cover her tracks: "Friend: look it up in the dictionary, there'll be a torn out page where Wilson's mug shot used to be."

"Funny," He muttered back.

"Are we hiding?" She suddenly asked, watching a couple of teenagers begin to nervously grope each other on a bench.

"I don't know." He replied, nudging closer to her side. His strong arm pulsating next to hers, "Are we?"

She looked down at her skinny knees, half covered in the grass: "I just thought…"

_Why are you so quiet? Why are you so still?_

She moved her eyes over to House's knees. His legs, stretched out much further than hers, crossed at the ankles. He was picking up daisies. Absentmindedly making a chain as he spoke:

"This is a really bad idea. Anyone will tell you this."

She closed her eyes as a branch tickled her face. "Right."

She watched his tongue touch his lips in concentration as he scanned the ground for more flowers.

"I don't need anyone to tell me," She muttered.

"But they will," His thumb nail deftly slid across the stalk of a daisy, splitting it, and he hooked another through it, "They'll tell you to stop now. Before you get in too deep."

She swallowed hard. Holding back. _I am in too deep._

He formed his chain into a circle: "They'll say it's doomed. And it is. Doomed from the very beginning. They'll warn you and maybe you'll listen to them. Because if you don't I can't promise that I won't…"

He paused to lean across her, grabbing her water bottle and taking a drink.

"…I won't hurt you."

She shook her head. Confused and appalled in equal measure.

"Right," She muttered bitterly, "Let's just end it here then."

He paused. His eyes turned to her. He raised his eyebrows.

"Right." He said slowly, another test.

"Yes," She said, bringing her knees up to her chest and pulling her shorts a little further over them. "It's all about doing what other people want. That's exactly how you live your life."

Sarcasm gripped her: "You never take chances, you never do something because it feels good. You never break the rules."

His fingers fumbled with the daisy chain. His eyes stilled on her mouth. He watched her, admiringly.

Sarcasm turned to anger: "You take risks every day with other people's lives and yet when it comes to your own – when it comes to mine - you completely wuss out. Wow, House, you sure push the boundaries."

He tilted his head back, looking longingly at the skin beside her temple, amused: "Did you just call me a wuss?"

She looked at him. His eyes bright and full of mischief. She didn't know whether she loved him or hated him. Whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him. Both. _Always both._

He stuck out his bottom lip, "Are you angry with me?"

She paused for a moment. Listening to the sound of a distant radio. She moved her hand so that it was exactly next to his. Fingers lined up next to each other in the grass.

_I don't want you to use me and then leave me. I don't want you to ignore me. I don't want to be your fuck buddy._

"I don't…know."

"Allison Cameron –" he began, gripping her fingers hard and holding them into the ground, "You drive me insane."

Her face reddened and she broke free of his grasp.

He tentatively reached for her knee but she pushed him away.

He growled playfully and carefully placed the daisy chain on the top of her head.

"You're beautiful," he breathed into her ear, even though she wouldn't look at him, "But you've always known that."

She turned quickly, catching his lips with her own, drawing him into a long kiss, anger and frustration melting away as his hands gently cupped her face.

She enjoyed the moment, hiding with House, away from prying eyes, just the two of them in the whole world. And they could keep something to themselves. _Them._

"My place…" he mumbled into her mouth.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **He'll never be mine. Shore and Fox own him. And her.

XII.

"My towel!" She exclaimed, immediately recognising the scent as she ran it over her body.

"What did you say?" House called through the door.

"Doesn't matter," she smiled to herself.

_"Aren't you going to offer me a drink?" Allison Cameron gripped the back of Greg House's hair and fell with him onto a couch in an unfamiliar room._

_He gasped as his leg bumped against hers and she tasted the bitterness of Vicodin on his tongue. _

"_Are you kidding?" he said, pulling her up across his body so that her aching burning nerve endings, mingled confusingly with his own. _

_He manoeuvred her hips so that all they'd have to do was push aside their underwear and they'd be…_

_She pulled his t-shirt up over her head and then removed her own, exposing a rather unattractive sports bra._

_She paused as his eyes took it in._

"_I'm sorry, I wasn't planning on…"_

_He shrugged and silenced her with a few quick kisses across her mouth before leaning forward and gently nibbling her nipples through the bra._

"_I never thought…" he began to say as he tried to undo her bra. She pulled it over her head quickly and grabbed his wrists, firmly placing his hands on her exposed breasts._

_He smiled. He actually smiled and muttered: "You're so hot" as he massaged her chest for a few seconds before replacing his fingers with his tongue and teasing each nipple until they stung._

_She liked the pain. At that precise moment she liked everything about him._

_She fumbled to pull his jeans down from his hips and her fingers paused, dancing around the band of his shorts. _

_His eyes followed her intently, dark and wanton. _

_She drew back so that she was sitting astride him and in one smooth movement she'd brought his shorts down to his knees and was wrapping her hand around his erection. _

_She dipped her head and ran her tongue along his length feeling him pulsate beneath her. He was huge and so close to…_

_He ran his fingers through her hair as she sucked him, drawing him into her mouth and letting him thrust right to the back of her throat, then holding him there for a moment, her tongue flicking hard against him._

_She'd never ever wanted to give a blowjob to anyone. It had always been a chore. A half-hearted attempt. Now she actually wanted him to come in her mouth. She just wanted him, full stop._

"_Wait," he said quickly, pulling her up and staring at her wild expression:_

"_I want to…"_

_He ran his hand down between her breasts and further, sliding down past her shorts and panties and finding her entrance. _

_The quickness of it made her gasp and she rocked into his hand. He slid his fingers deep inside her. She was so wet already and she shuddered slightly at his touch._

"_I can't wait." She said, a breathy giggle escaping her lips, "I can't keep on waiting."_

_In one sharp tug he'd pulled her shorts and panties away and she'd wriggled free of them. _

_She grabbed his cock and pushed forward, impaling herself onto him making him grunt. She tightened around him, feeling the indescribable pleasure sweep over her, and fulfilled by him completely. _

_She began to rock, his hands gripped her breasts pumping her up and down against him, the tip of his cock reaching somewhere so deep inside her that it made her cry out every time he hit it._

_She rode him hard and he moved his hand to lazily play with her clitoris as her breathing quickened._

_Fuck me. She whimpered. God. I'm going to come._

"_I'm going to come," She said, leaning down against his mouth and moving his hand back up to tease her nipple more._

"_Me too" he breathed dragging his lips to her neck and biting her lightly. _

_She clamoured for something to hold onto and settled for his shoulders and she rocked harder, faster, feeling herself about to fall over the edge._

"_You're really good," she said, through dry mouth, gritted teeth, but it wasn't enough._

_His eyes rolled into the back of his head, he was so close._

"_You're the best I've ever had," She admitted as the tension in her grew and grew, still, this didn't quench her, it wasn't what she wanted to say. _

"_You're really the fucking best," She whimpered as the first wave of her orgasm threw her over the edge._

_Her whimpers turned to screams as fireworks exploded all around her. She saw him grinning, she couldn't hold back. She was wild, she was out of control, she screamed as his cock shuddered and released inside her, causing her to spasm and buck once more. _

"_I love you." She gasped. And then gasped again because she couldn't believe she'd actually said it._

_She opened her eyes to watch him ride out the last of his orgasm, his breathing ragged his eyelids fluttering, and then his eyes, the brightest blue she'd ever seen, caught her, liquid heat burning right into her very soul. _

_He grunted and gasped and grabbed her chin, holding her gaze to his:_

"_And that's your problem."_

XXX

Her nipples grew erect against the old Rolling Stone's t-shirt he'd lent her as her fingers rested against the bathroom door handle.

Slowly, she opened the door and stepped into the dark hall. She tiptoed into his bedroom.

He was lying on his bed, a silhouette against his reading lamp, flipping through a medical journal. His long body dressed in a tight fitting white t-shirt and blue striped pyjama bottoms.

"You should read this." He said, instantly breaking the ice.

She unclenched, suddenly feeling a strong urge to hug him. _Was he really trying to make this easy at last?_

She sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hands through her tangled hair; "Do you have a hair dryer?"

He stopped reading and looked up at her grimacing, like he was about to say something so snarky that it might crush her.

She blinked at him, her face fresh and makeup free, her skin translucent in the half-light, the hem of his t-shirt resting against the top of her silky thighs.

"Well?" She said. It wasn't so unbelievable that he might possess a hairdryer, was it? "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" He managed to say, his ears reddening with perverse embarrassment.

"Like I'm a crazy woman," She said softly.

He paused and then returned to his book, turning a page swiftly: "You have no idea."

She watched his handsome profile. A smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth.

"About what?" She dared to move a couple of inches back onto the bed.

"About Segawa's Disease." He said holding up the journal so that she could see its title.

His eyes made her heart flutter. She felt too nervous to move. After everything that had already happened, she was too afraid to lie next to him. Too scared of the moment he pushed her away when she subconsciously reached for him in her sleep_. Too embarrassed about the truths that escaped her during sex._

He raised his eyebrow. "Come here."

She nervously lay back on her side of the bed, keeping a safe distance between them, not knowing how she should behave. Should she even be there? He hadn't asked her to stay. _Any moment now he was going to break her._

"When I said _here,_" he regarded the distance between them and put down his book. Leaning back and switching the lamp off: "I meant _here._"

He reached over and pulled her towards him until her head was resting against his neck and his arms enveloped her warmly. He breathed into the top of her head and settled back against the cool pillow.

She closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat as it synchronised against her own.

Slowly she relaxed.

"Jeez," he whispered into the dark, "When was the last time you slept with someone?"

She tangled her legs up into his and finally settled: "I don't remember."

"Neither do I."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **All references to House, Cameron, PPTH, Chase, Foreman, Cuddy, Wilson and the whole shebang belong to David Shore and Fox. Ok?

XIII.

"_I don't want to go to work, do you?"_

_She hears his voice before she opens her eyes, a faint mumble into the back of her hair. _

_Next she feels his hands snaking around her waist. Skin on skin. He shuffles closer to her and she feels his erection in her back._

She smiled and then frowned. She couldn't anticipate what his next move might be and it frightened her a little.

_She'd told him so much. He'd told her nothing._

She stretched and turned her head, bumping noses.

His eyes half closed as he studied her: "Well?"

She stifled a yawn and spoke carefully: "I always want to go to work. I'm dedicated."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her bottom lip with his teeth, his pupils growing as she gasped.

_Images past quickly through her mind. Polaroid's developing one after the other: during the night she'd reached for him, running her hand up and down his length and feeling pleased with herself as he'd bucked against her. And he'd gasped and shuddered as she'd brought him to orgasm. _

_He'd whispered into the dark: "I'm an old man, Cameron, I may never recover."_

She propped her head up on her elbows and ran a finger across his chest, swirling the sparse hair around beneath her touch: "How would we…"

"We could pretend to be sick."

"I don't know," she muttered. The idea thrilled her to her very core. Staying in House's apartment. Staying in House's bed. Making love all day.

"Are you afraid?" He wound his wrist around hers. His eyes flashed with danger.

"No," she replied, thinking back to all the times she'd skipped class to drive Amy to her auditions.

"Come on," he said, rolling over on top of her and pinning her arms to the bed, "I used to do this all the time with…"

He stopped abruptly as her eyes widened.

He shook his head and rolled off her, moving to the edge of the bed.

She immediately felt alone without his weight beside her. At least he hadn't said _her_ name, even if he'd thought it: "With Wilson, right?"

He nodded, guiltily, "Yeah, with Wilson."

He looked at her as he carefully rose out of the bed and pulled his shorts on. He grabbed his cane and pulled himself up. She seemed so small in his bed.

XXX

Cameron phoned early enough to catch Cuddy's answering machine. She coughed and croaked down the receiver, even though she knew that she didn't need to. She'd never taken a day off work before. Cuddy wouldn't begrudge her 24 hour's rest.

House walked back into the bedroom. He was dressed, even down to his sneakers and leather jacket.

He bent down and slid his arm around her waist: "This is what I want you to do: don't move. Stay here all morning. Naked and in my bed. And I'll be back at noon. Ok?"

"You're going to work?" She asked, surprised.

"Until noon," he dropped a kiss on the end of her nose, "But that's not the important part. _Naked. In my bed._ They're the points you need to remember."

She giggled and he drew breath, finally dragging himself away and going to the door.

Cameron lay back and closed her eyes, running her fingers lightly between her thighs and feeling herself dampen with the anticipation of his return.

Somewhere in the apartment she heard her cell phone ring. She stumbled to her feet and wrapped a sheet around her.

She found the phone under a cushion on the couch and the memory of sitting astride him flitted through her mind.

"Hello?"

"Allison, are you trying to kill me with worry?"

"Amy –" She began but her friend quickly interrupted.

"So, you finally pick up after I've phoned you like a hundred times! I tried to phone you at home last night and you didn't answer and I left like 10 messages and then I phoned you this morning to catch you before you got to work and they say you're sick and you're never sick and so I thought something really bad must have happened to you…and…are you ok?"

Cameron sank into the sofa. "I'm sorry."

She sometimes forgot that she had anyone looking out for her.

"I knew you were phoning on Monday I wasn't expecting –" She began curling her legs up in the sheet.

"Obviously. I was so worried. God, never do that again. Are you sick?"

"Not really," She admitted.

Amy paused, probably calculating what this meant. "Are you with _him_?"

"Who?" Cameron replied dumbly.

"The motorcycle riding sexy older guy?"

Cameron grinned. Unsure whether to reveal the secret.

Amy gasped: "Sugar! Just what have you been up to?"

Cameron lowered her voice. "Amy, he's just so…" she paused, her mind drifting around the various areas of his apartment where they'd touched each other, "He's so hot. It's like all of this unresolved sexual tension that's been building up inside us over all that time has suddenly been…well, resolved."

She felt a little guilty, talking about him behind his back, and in his own apartment.

Amy giggled: "I have to meet him."

Caught up in her daydream, Cameron nodded: "You'd like him. No, nobody likes him. But you might understand why I do."

"Wow, Allison, I've never heard you talk like this before," Amy sounded impressed.

Cameron smirked: "Maybe because I've never been with anyone like him before."

Amy laughed, "So, finally you're dating again. It's only been like five years. I have to meet him…on Saturday."

_Dating? Where they dating? Did House actually date people?_

Cameron paused. "Saturday?"

"I'm coming to see you."

"Right" Cameron's voice faltered and then she covered quickly, "Great. I can't wait to see you again."

"Good," Amy said, testing her friend a little, "So, we'll all go out for dinner together. I don't want to be a gooseberry so find me a date. Someone devastatingly handsome will do."

There was that word again: _a date. _

"I'll do my best," Cameron muttered feeling her confidence ebb away.

"Have fun sugar!" Amy shouted, "I love you!"

Cameron slowly closed her phone, wondering just what House would make of Amy, if she'd even be able to persuade him to meet her in the first place. _If it would all end today. _

She stood and wandered over to his piano, the sheet trailing behind her. She ran her fingers over the keys, pressing them so softly that no sound came out of them.

Next she perused his bookshelf, her fingers sliding down the spines of Hemingway, Murakami, Kesey, Joyce, those ever-present medical journals bound in leather that crowded her bookshelves and that she rarely looked at, dozens of thin books full of guitar chords, atlases and dictionaries – in almost every language - with page corners turned over. And, perhaps most surprisingly of all, a very old looking Bible.

Carefully, she opened the first page:

_To Greg, Because someone has to believe for you, Love Grandma._

She closed it quickly, feeling like she'd intruded on something really private, but she couldn't help smiling.

She snuck it back into it's place next to a book of Betty Page images and a ring binder full of Superman comics and made her way into the kitchen.

She stopped in her tracks.

The daisy chain he'd made her yesterday circled the edge of a plate containing a chocolate muffin.

She smiled but then shivered as she caught her widened reflection in the stainless steel of the refrigerator. Her neck purple from his teeth marks, her hair a dishevelled mess, her whole being a picture of vulnerability and neediness.

_What I am is what you need... I'm damaged._

Would he break her? Was he just waiting for the right moment?


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **House MD (and all references herein) remains the property of Fox. Not me.

XIV.

Cameron pulled out her shorts from in-between the cushions on the couch and held them up between finger and thumb. A crumpled mess.

She checked the antique clock on the wall: 10.45am. Noon was creeping up slowly.

_She had to get out of there._

She walked quickly into the bedroom and located the Stones t-shirt he'd leant her the previous night, tangled up amongst the bed sheets. She pulled it on and then looked around for her underwear. Gone.

She said a silent apology into the still room and pulled open a couple of drawers in the wardrobe. Looking for something to wear.

Settling on a pair of his jeans, she pulled them up over her naked butt and stood staring at herself in the long mirror on the inside of the wardrobe. She grabbed a belt that hung on a small hook and managed to cinch them in at the waist so that she looked almost cool.

She paused at her reflection. A teenager again. Big baggy jeans, an old band t-shirt. Sneaking about. Not wanting to get caught. Not ready to face up to the responsibility of it all.

She wondered about writing a note, but what could she say?

_Sorry House. We are doomed. You are right. (You always are)  
_

She couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd respond to that.

_You're weak. You're pathetic. _

She knew all of that anyway.

She located a rubber band in a kitchen drawer and pulled her hair back from her face, securing it as best she could.

Her cell phone rang and she paused, seeing the diagnostics number flash up. House? Maybe she could tell him how she felt over the phone. Not having to look into his blue eyes was the cowards' way out but that's what she needed.

"Hello?"

"Hey Cameron."

"Hi Foreman," She relaxed a little and then remembered that she was supposed to be sick, "I was just in bed." – at least it wasn't quite a lie.

"Yeah, sorry to call you. He filed all of my case notes yesterday," Foreman whispered, through gritted teeth, "and I can't find a damn thing."

She frowned, since when did she become the queen of filing? On the other hand, it was the perfect excuse to leave his apartment.

"Right," She mused, "So you want me to get up off my sick bed and drive into work just so I can help you locate these files?"

"You could just direct me over the phone." Foreman replied.

"It's ok," Cameron said quickly. She was famous for her martyrdom, now was not the time to let that halo slip, "I can be there just before noon."

She figured this gave her enough time to walk home, change out of House's clothes and get to the hospital. Hopefully, he'd be on his way back home by then and their paths wouldn't cross.

She snapped her phone shut and moved back to the lounge to pull on her sneakers.

Just as she was bending over to tie her laces, the door behind her opened.

She paused – a rabbit caught in the headlights – as House stopped and leant against the doorframe enjoying the view.

She stood up. Span around and managed to murmur: "Hi."

He looked her over and shut the door behind him, resting on his cane and cocking his head to the side: "Going somewhere?"

"You're back early," She muttered, nervously scratching the back of her neck.

His eyes flashed darkly, "I left 15 clinic patients waiting so that I could get back here."

"You hate clinic patients," She said readjusting her hair.

He took a step forward. His tongue resting on his bottom lip, deep in thought.

"I –" She began. She took a deep breath. "I'm going into work. Foreman needs me."

"Right," He watched her move around him and edge towards the door. He let her reach for the handle before he spoke:

"Because we have no cases."

"It's about your filing," she said looking at the thick wood of the door.

"Right," he said again. Not sarcastically. _Not anything_.

She felt him move behind her: "I didn't know it was 'Dress Like Doctor House Day'."

He reached out his hand and grabbed the back pocket of her jeans – _his jeans – _gripping the material as his fingers turned white.

She stared hard at the door, addressing it, rather than him: "I need to get away. Just for a little while."

"Are you _afwaid_?" he said in a silly voice.

She turned around, knocking his hand away, her eyes flashing:

"As a matter of fact: yes. Yes I am afraid. Just because we know it's going to end in us both getting really hurt – and let's me honest, that's the only way this thing could end – it doesn't make it any less scary. It doesn't mean that my feelings are any less…"

His eyes: amused? Sad? Melancholy? What? She couldn't put her finger on it. She stared into them for a moment. Managing to stop herself from falling back into the simplicity of touching, kissing, feeling him.

"What scared you the most?" He said quietly, taking her hand before she could resist.

"I tell you so you can mock me?"

"No." he said, rubbing his thumb gently across the inside of her palm, "You tell me so that you won't walk out the door and beat yourself up because you didn't."

She could feel tears start to prick at her eyes. She quickly looked down so that he wouldn't see that she was crying. She drew nearer to him speaking into his chest.

"It was the daisy chain. And the muffin –" She sniffled into his shirt, "I mean, why would you do that? It was so…nice."

His cane fell to the ground and he brought his hands up to cup her face, forcing her to look at him.

"I don't know." He said calmly, brushing her lips with his own, kissing her slowly and softly, his stubble brushing gently against her, his tongue tentatively finding hers and setting the rhythm of pushing and pulling, tangling and uniting.

A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her face. She tasted its saltiness as it mingled in their kiss.

_You can't leave now. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **Fox owns everything. Probably my soul too.

XV.

"You're wearing House's t-shirt," Wilson observed as she stepped into the lift beside him.

_Congratulations. Your plan lasted all of two minutes. House will be so proud of you._

_Earlier: _More kisses. More dragging finger nails along the inside of her arms. More reasons to not go into work.

"I need you here," House said sulkily as she headed to the door, "Maybe I want my clothes back."

Cameron smiled coyly at him. "I'm going anyway. I'll go naked if I have to."

"Fine," he snapped. "Go home and change. Go to work and do nothing except drive your co-workers crazy with suspicion. But I want my clothes back ironed and laundered first thing tomorrow."

"Right. Just like my towel?"

"Exactly like your towel." He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm.

"Maybe I'll keep your t-shirt," she said moving out of his way and pulling the door open.

"Go ahead," he snarked, "Even better, why not wear it to work? That'll really let the cat out of the bag."

He took his last glimpse of her and then shut the door with a slam.

_But she felt different. Liberated. She was rebelling and in the best way possible._

"It was a gift…" Cameron replied quietly, not daring to look Wilson in the face.

"Right," Wilson hissed, "Because House is the most generous man I've ever met."

"It was…" She finally met his eye.

Wilson looked exasperated. He drummed his fingers against the files he was carrying.

His face reddened as he caught her glance: "Right, it's none of my business."

Cameron had been able to talk to Wilson in the past. She'd always imagined that one day he'd be the one who she could off load onto about House. _No one knew him better. But they hadn't spoken in days. Maybe weeks._

"I'll come to your office at five," She said quietly. "I'll tell you everything then."

She stepped out into the hall and headed to diagnostics. Not sure if she would break her promise to House or her promise to herself first. _Would she really tell him everything?_

XX 

James Wilson sat in his office with his feet up on his desk. He watched the large drops of rain splash against the balcony outside and the lightening fork against the azure blue sky.

Cameron paused at his door, surveying the scene, feeling a little afraid.

_What do I tell him, House? The second he looks at me it'll be too late._

"Come in then," He shouted, getting up and walking over to the door.

She tentatively stepped into his room. It was warmer here than House's office, both literally and metaphorically. Little signs of "home" littered all around: an old Hitchcock poster, a bunch of daffodils in a hand-painted vase on the desk, a sweater hanging up on the hat stand.

"So," Wilson moved swiftly to the doors of the balcony and opened them, letting big splodges of rain fall onto the toes of his shoes. "It finally decided to rain, huh? And you're having a relationship with House?"

Cameron stuttered, surprised, not sure if she'd even heard correctly: "Um, I'm…"

Suddenly she felt very small and very stupid. Wilson folded his arms and stared out into the rain. His face a mask of indifference.

"Did he tell you to lie?" He spoke quietly: "Did he tell you to just keep it between the two of you?"

She moved behind him, watching his shoulders clench as he spoke: "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Cameron felt herself clench too. She knew exactly what…what did Wilson know about this anyway? _Everything._

"Thank you for your concern," She looked down at her watch, awkwardly running her index finger across the scratched face. Trying to be professional. Doctor to doctor. Just another differential diagnosis that she didn't agree with: "I'm sure that I'll be just fine. I'm a big girl now."

He shook his head furiously at the cliché: "No. You think you've got him all figured? You think that over time you'll just wear him down until he can see things from your point of view? You think you stand a chance at making his world better or…"

He turned to her, his face red with rage: "I mean, isn't that why people have relationships, to find that one soul that compliments their own? That one person who'll be there for you when everyone else has deserted them?"

"I guess." She was shocked by his anger. Shocked by the small voice deep within herself that told her he was wrong. _Everybody lies._

"Listen, James. I know that you two have had an argument." She reached out her hand and touched his forearm just below his upturned shirtsleeve. "Please don't think that I'm going to let House treat me like…"

"What?" Wilson shook off her touch, "Like he treats me? Is that what you were going to say?"

She gasped. She hadn't meant that. _Had she?_

He walked around his desk: "He's a bastard. But maybe you like that. House always said you were the submissive type."

Cameron glared at him in disbelief. Surely she'd misheard. Wilson was a nice guy.

A minute passed in silence.

She walked out and slammed the door hard behind her, her chin trembling.


End file.
